There were few people about when I walked, a man hurrying down the Prom carrying a plastic bag from the 24 hour SPAR, the milkman in his van and an ambulance driving into town and then back along Llanbadarn Road. Several lights were still on in Alexandra Hall. Perhaps some students haven’t yet gone home. It is mournful being so alone, but not unpleasant. The wind, an easterly was sharp on my face.

N was amazing. I was abuzz with our conversation. He brought me alive again. I want more of it. Now I must make sense of it all and begin to shape a piece. I always get nervous about writing. Is it the same with everyone? I’ve hoovered and mopped the flat – part displacement and partly to get it over with. Now there is no excuse but to get down to work. The bane of self-employment, it is up to me. Do it. And it will feel better.

I baked mince pies yesterday. Mind you that was before he came home with directions from the diabetes nurse that he needs to cut down on carbohydrates. How do we start doing that? His diet is wholly-based on them. Heigh ho. I shall do my best. Then there is the news that our washing machine may combust at any moment! Lordy. Another batch to bake today. Perhaps I shall give some to the man I saw sleeping in the Prom shelter this morning. And so cold, poor love. May he find comfort.

And S and R. Does he have it? She with her cauliflower nose. I couldn’t help touching her. That brusqueness just a show to hide her concern, her fear of losing him. Her toy boy I called him. He laughed. Bless her, bless them and keep them safe.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.